My apologies for the long delay in updating.

Not very happy with this chapter but I live in hope that you'll stick with me. Maybe the next one will be quicker and better.

Happy reading.

Long fair lashes had barely come to rest in their place above the shadowy grey valleys beneath Jane's eyes when the quiet atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of sharp but gentle and brief knocking on the door, followed by the discreet entrance of Nurse Carmina Sanchez.

Jane's eyes popped open again in comedic slow motion, registered slight surprise, then drifted shut again.

He said nothing.

This fleeting sign of wakefulness in her patient went unnoticed by the olive skinned nurse, so she ignored him, smiled pleasantly at the other woman in the room and introduced herself,

"Hi. You must be Agent Lisbon. I'm Carmina."

Assuming Jane to be asleep, she stepped forward, extending her hand formally and, reading Lisbon's rather intimate position on his bedside as the closeness of something more than casual friendship, Carmina smiled cautiously and said, "I expect Mr. Jane has told you about our little spat the other day. I do hope he doesn't harbour any bad feelings about that."

The puzzled, not to say surprised, look on Lisbon's face as she shook the nurse's outstretched hand confirmed that she had no notion of any such incident.

She cast a stern glance at Jane, who seemed to have actually fallen asleep, and replied rather tersely.

"Well Mr. Jane can be a very private man. He doesn't tell me everything."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Carmina seemed surprised. "I thought he would have mentioned it. He was rather upset over a book he'd misplaced."

She back pedaled, fussing over an errant lock of thick black hair in an attempt to cover her mild embarrassment.

"Perhaps he's forgotten about it already," she speculated after an awkward moment, meeting Lisbon's eyes, appearing somewhat relieved.

"Maybe," Lisbon replied thoughtfully, continuing to study Jane, but she made no further comment.

She remembered Grace's account of how distressed he'd been that particular morning and didn't relish the thought of revisiting the subject with both parties in the room; even if Jane was asleep, which, she reflected, he might very probably not be.

Carmina visibly relaxed when Lisbon smiled warmly and rose from her place beside Jane, withdrawing to allow the nurse to examine readings on the various machines and check his IV.

"I didn't wake you both when I did the obs earlier, did I?" she asked.

Lisbon shook her head and smiled politely.

"You both seemed so peaceful," the nurse observed.

She straightened the edge of the bed cover and let her eyes linger sympathetically on his face for a moment.

"I'm afraid it means Patrick's missed his breakfast though. Poor thing … he looks as if he could use some food."

Lisbon was distracted, still half occupied in mulling over how significant Jane's issue with Carmina might be, she didn't seem to be the sort of woman to press Jane's buttons. But these days it was so hard to know.

As she looked at his apparently guileless form, lying there pretty much helpless, she was torn between frustration and pity. Pity was something neither she nor Jane approved of so she settled on frustration.

"He was asking for tea a minute ago," she said, and with the merest hint of snarkiness. "Why don't you ask him? I don't suppose he's asleep."

Right on cue Jane yawned and blinked impressively.

… actually I was … now I'm not …

"Oh… Uhh … what was that?" He yawned theatrically again, "Did somebody mention tea?"

He looked straight at Carmina with rather bleary eyes and smiled at her quite genuinely. "Ah, Carmina. How nice."

Then he closed his eyes again.

The nurse wrote a few figures on his chart, put it back in it's place at the end of the bed and said very deliberately and brightly to his tightly shut eyes. "It's nice to see you too sleepy head. Didn't think you'd be back so soon though."

"Won't be here long," he drawled mysteriously.

"We'll see. Shall we?"

The nurse looked at the time on her fob watch. then flashed Lisbon a look of exasperation tempered with patience which Lisbon found encouraging, she felt that Carmina had a certain understanding of her enigmatic colleague. She was happy that he would not easily get away with any of his silliness with this sensible experienced woman.

"Your readouts are all good," she told him with an encouraging smile; one that he couldn't see because he still couldn't be bothered to keep his eyes open."I expect you'll be off the machines as soon as Doctor's been round."

With his eyes closed, Jane suddenly gave an involuntary shudder at the unexpected contact as Carmina carefully lifted his wrist to adjust the position of the drip affixed to the back of his hand. He grimaced a little at the stab of pain induced by his own unguarded movement.

The momentary contortion of his precious, beautiful face made Lisbon flinch. She felt her own features screw up in sympathy.

When her task was completed the kindly nurse placed her hand innocently back on his arm and gave a little squeeze, saying, "There, there … all done now," as if to a small child.

Again her touch startled him more that it should have done, immediately conjuring up fleeting tingling sensations in his skin, the hairs all over his body spiked and images of swarming black insects skittered before his eyes, but he kept them clamped firmly shut, kept still and concentrated hard.

The frightening sensations were gone as soon as they had come. Still he was left with an uneasy nervousness, which he tried determinedly not to show in his face.

If Carmina noticed she made no comment.

"You have a little snooze and I'll get you a cup of tea and something to eat," she told him. "Eggs isn't it?"

Lisbon had been patiently observing her consultant's reaction, and knowing him as thoroughly as she did, wasn't so easily fooled by his poker face, so when an unintelligible mumble was Jane's vague reply to the usually foolproof offer of his favourite food, she simply smiled and answered more completely for him.

"He'll always eat eggs … loosely scrambled and some lightly toasted rye bread, if you can."

"No trouble," answered the efficient nurse, "I'll get some sent up in a minute."

Lisbon watched the friendly, if unremarkable middle aged woman leave and wondered again why that unfathomable man had been so unreasonable with her. Once more she reflected that Carmina appeared to be a calm and understanding person.

The more she thought about it, the more Lisbon felt sure that the events of that night and her consultant's dreadful state in the morning had been about more than the temporary loss of his dammed notebook.

When Carmina had gone Lisbon returned to Jane and sat close to him on the bed, resting her hand very cautiously on his shoulder where the skin was covered.

She was relieved to see that he didn't flinch. Didn't even crack open an eyelid.

"You sleeping?" she asked in a whisper that was calculated to wake him if he indeed was asleep.

"Yeah"

The tone of his voice was irritated … or bored … or deflecting…

… she's going to ask me about it …

"You want to tell me about it?"

… no… not now Lisbon …

"Tell you about what?" he elected to be evasive.

"You know," she probed. "What went on with that nurse."

"Nothing to tell really," he took a slow half deep, but careful breath. "Not now anyway."

He still didn't open his eyes, but his face was typically enigmatic when he said. "She's fine. I know it."

Lisbon knew she was not going to get a satisfactory answer any time soon so she decided to let the matter rest and instead smiled wryly to herself.

"OK then. That's good. You can tell me about it later then."

"Maybe."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Fifteen minutes later Jane's breakfast and more importantly his tea, albeit in a horrid disposable cup, was delivered by a nurse who was unfamiliar to both himself and Lisbon.

She announced herself as Sally and was a comfortably plump mousy thirty-something with rosy cheeks and a cheerful disposition.

Sally looked questioningly at Lisbon and nodded towards the quietly snuffling Jane.

"Um. I could come back later," she suggested. "It seems a shame to wake him. It's just that Dr. Brownloe won't be long, he's on his rounds already."

"Oh, it's fine." Lisbon smiled knowingly at her. "I'll just waft the tea under his nose. He'll leap into action."

She leaned forward and ran her hand gently down the bare skin of his right arm. Jane recoiled a bit and shivered then his eyes opened with a slightly panicky stare.

"You alright?" she asked.

He gazed wide eyed at her, like a small animal caught in a torch beam, and considered for a moment.

"Um. Yeah."

Jane looked away to avoid his slight and unusual self-consciousness and his eyes alighted on the encouraging sight of the new nurse carrying a melamine tray bearing his tea.

"Excellent," he said as gleefully as he could and started to struggle to a sitting position.

It did not go well.

He let out a long pained groan, his face warped into an ugly grimace and he crumbled back onto his pillows. In attempting to control his agony he drew in a long breath which only resulted in more debilitating pains and a fit of coughing.

Quickly putting the breakfast tray down on the table, Sally immediately took both of his arms and held them firmly. She instructed him with calm authority.

"Lie back Mr. Jane. Try to breathe long and slow. Not too deep. That's it."

He gradually relaxed and lay back with his eyes closed.

"That hurt," he moaned.

"You haven't had any pain killers," she explained. "It says on your chart that you can't have anything yet. I expect you're a bit stiff."

"Why?" he whimpered weakly though clenched teeth. "Why can't I have any?"

"Don't worry. I expect you'll be able to have some soon. Doctor's on his way."

Jane glared at her silently, but Sally had an air of competence about her that Lisbon instantly warmed to.

The two women's eyes met and they each moved to the separate sides of Jane's bed and like a well-oiled machine helped him into a comfortable position, with a minimum of fuss and almost no moans of pain.

When settled and more composed Jane begrudgingly gave them both a pathetically grateful smile that drained away into the woebegone expression of a little boy watching his ice cream melting into a sticky white puddle on the sidewalk.

He was staring at the buff coloured insulated paper cup, with it's senseless graphic logo, like he thought it contained a deadly poison.

"Where's Cindy?"

… more importantly, where's her cup …

He directed his question accusingly at Nurse Sally Roberts, but reluctantly wrapped his fingers around the awful paper monstrosity anyway … it was going to make the tea taste foul, if it didn't in the first place, which it undoubtedly would because it was no doubt a blend of sweepings from the warehouse floor.

At least it was warm.

Lisbon could see that Jane's hands were a little shaky, so she sat close in case he needed help, as Sally began to explain.

"Oh, you mean the Agency nurse. Funnily enough she was only here a few days. This is my regular shift but I was called away in the early hours of Wednesday morning," she settled on the chair nearby and watched Jane pull a disgusted face at his first sip of tea.

"It was strange really," she continued. "Someone phoned saying that my sister, who's a single parent, had been in an accident and would I help with her children for a few days. Anyway, it turned out to be bogus, but I hadn't been given any details and couldn't raise her on the phone, so I rushed up to Seattle only to find her home with the kids. Right as rain. I stayed for a few days, since I was there and my shifts were already covered."

Jane's ears pricked up with interest and his eyes miraculously regained a little more focus as Sally's story began to unfold.

He didn't say anything, but his best friend detected the almost imperceptible change in his demeanour.

"That's strange," said Lisbon, making a mental note to ask for more details later.

She didn't say anything more, but searched Jane's face for signs of any further reaction as she took the nearly empty cup from his still trembling hand. She saw nothing, other than the dissatisfaction induced by hospital tea, although he now appeared to be lost in deep thought.

"Come on," she encouraged patiently, loading up a forkful of Jane's breakfast and offering it to him, "Let's get some food in you before you have to face Dr. Brownloe. You'll feel much better after eggs."

Jane hesitated a bit before he put the cup down with a relieved sigh and accepted the fork from her hand. He took a cautious taste of the creamy eggs and tested the flavour and texture thoroughly, then swallowed and looked at her seriously.

"You know Lisbon," he announced with great import. "That's really not that bad."

Nurse Sally left the room to attend to her other patients while Jane proceeded to wolf down the rest of the eggs and a little toast in silence, wearing the expression of a man totally preoccupied with something other than his breakfast.

Teresa watched the cogs struggling to turn as he ate, reading in his expression when his concentration lapsed and he let his eyes glaze over for a few seconds before he frowned and attempted to focus his thoughts again.

It was obvious that his brilliant brain was still more than a little foggy.

About ten minutes later the perpetually flustered but affable Dr. Brownloe breezed into the room, accompanied by a member of his eager flock of trainees; this time a very young, rather nervous and earnest little sparrow of a girl, obviously straight out of the education system. She hovered nearby, observing the doctor's every move as he subjected Jane to the routine prodding, poking and flashing of bright lights into sensitive eyes.

Lisbon felt her hands grip subconsciously onto the sharp edges of the plastic seat of her chair as she watched Jane's annoyance and discomfort growing exponentially as the examination progressed.

Tiny muscles in his jaw and around his eyes clenched and released instantly each time he was touched and she could see his fingers flexing and worrying incessantly.

It seemed impossible that the doctor wasn't aware that his patient was finding the experience inordinately difficult.

"Well," he declared at last. "We seem to be doing just fine Mr. Jane."

He smiled broadly, then his addendum landed with a resounding thud.

"All things considered."

Teresa Lisbon was watching her consultant closely.

Her heart plummeted when she saw something in his mask crack. Something more than just a twitching muscle and yet something so subtle that only she could identify the moment.

For Jane this less than positive comment was the last straw. To his currently fragile psyche, it didn't suggest much promise of an imminent return to the inviting bosom of Lisbon's home, where he felt safe.

Here he felt caged and scared and ready to scream out loud if anyone else came within an arms length of putting a finger on him again.

He was about to yell out when Lisbon caught his eye.

There was something in the way she was looking at him, silently willing him to be strong and calm, telling him through that silent bond between them that she understood how much he was struggling, but that he would be okay.

She smiled warmly at him with nothing more than her eyes and mouthed the words, "Stay strong."

Jane closed his eyes very tightly for fractions of a second and let the yell escape as a short dense sigh, lids popping open once more to focus directly on the unsuspecting eyes of poor Dr. Brownloe.

He held the doctor's attention for a full thirty seconds before speaking.

The words that emerged were not exactly what Lisbon had been expecting.

His voice was quietly threatening, but slight wavering, whether from anger or weakness, and the twitch of a smile at the edge of his lips, made the whole scene a little surreal, theatrical even.

"Doctor," he instructed the man solemnly, "Can I please implore you not to address me as 'we'.

As I'm sure you will acknowledge, 'we' are not a couple, so the correct first person form would be 'I', the singular, as in the phrase 'I am a very singular person' … as I hope you will agree I am."

He paused, both for dramatic effect and in order to give his audience a moment to assimilate part one of his lecture.

He also felt the need to take a wheezy breath and allow himself a sly smirk.

Dr. Brownloe's smile, rather surprisingly, spread instead of beating the expected hasty retreat, while his timid trainee shuffled awkwardly and looked desperately at Lisbon whose cringe was almost audible as her eyes settled back down from rolling heavenward.

Jane was beginning to enjoy himself, which was strange, he thought, since he felt like crap.

In fact, there would have been a couple of grand accompanying gestures to emphasise his point, if he'd not thought the wafting around of plastic tubing would look ridiculous and if his energy reserves hadn't been so low.

As it was, Jane merely gathered himself and continued.

"What makes even less sense is that one would address a patient in the first person when there is a second person form just waiting to be put to good use. Would it not be simpler and, more importantly, correct to say "How are 'you' Mr. Jane", or even 'Patrick' if you'd prefer, and to tell me " 'You're' doing just … "

"Jaaannnnee … "

Jane's diatribe was interrupted by the hiss of Lisbon's quietly insistent admonishment and her soul shrivelling glare.

She had dearly wanted to slap him.

"… fine ... ... "

He finished a trifle lamely, fighting not to sound guilty, even though he knew he was behaving appallingly.

... control yourself Jane ... don't appear weak ... apologize gracefully... stay cool...

He immediately averted his eyes to study a dangling thread hanging from the edge of the student's green corduroy skirt, then after an uncomfortable moment or two looked back up and in a subdued voice said to no one in particular, "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to be so rude … just a little bit on edge…"

Dr. Brownloe almost immediately raised his hand to save the man's embarrassment.

"No, no." he said with an amused smile. "My fault entirely. In fact it's a habit I should try to find a cure for. One of those medi-speak clichés we all fall into from time to time."

He grinned broadly at Jane, whose face was now drained of all expression, and cloaked in a grey mist of exhaustion, "And you're absolutely correct. You are without doubt one of the most singular persons it has ever been my pleasure to meet."

Lisbon stood to the side, shifting from one foot to another, embarrassed for the poor beleaguered physician, and undecided whether she should feel angry at Jane for his rudeness and volatility or sympathetic because she knew his tendency to lash out verbally was simply a defence mechanism. He was still terrified and confused.

Anxious to change the subject and smooth the strained atmosphere the doctor quickly turned and ushered forward his colleague.

"This is Polly. She's going to take another sample of your blood, just to make sure before we risk giving you any more drugs. Looking at your chart and from my examination, I don't think there'll be a problem. When we have the results we can get some new casts put on for you and see about getting you back home."

Jane gave the doctor a puzzled and somewhat perturbed look, he couldn't figure why they wanted more blood, and blanched at the thought of being touched again. He found it worried him that he couldn't summon the energy to be bothered to protest, even though he was scared witless and ashamed of being so scared.

That only made him feel worse.

He really wished he could grasp hold of Teresa's hand like he had that time in the Las Vegas desert and shelter in the safety of her unshakable faith.

Brownloe jotted something on his notes and stepped back, but on seeing his patient's slightly off kilter reaction, asked, "That's alright, isn't it?"

Jane said nothing, since the question had to be rhetorical and he didn't think he could speak anyway.

… do I have any choice ?…

Polly had small feminine hands that, in spite of her nervousness, were steady and sure.

Jane watched her every move as she prepared the syringe and approached him quietly.

Lisbon watched Jane's face attentively and noted the small but unmistakable increase in the regular beep of the heart monitor as well as the gleam of perspiration appearing on his upper lip and forehead … then there was the pleading look he gave her.

She edged closer and gently took hold of his clammy free hand as Polly wiped the crook of his left elbow with an alcohol wipe and tapped the vein.

Jane gripped Lisbon's hand gratefully, closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

The needle stung and the white hot fire of fear raced through his veins.

He felt that same acidic burn that had been haunting his dreams for hours when Polly's delicate fingers met his skin.

He wanted to tear his arm away and scream out loud.

He felt faint and nauseous.

Then it was all over.

Lisbon squeezed his fingers reassuringly and when he opened his eyes she could see the sheen in them before he blinked and looked away.

"It's okay," she whispered.

"Thank you Mr. Jane," said Polly, gathering her things and moving to the door. She looked over to get the doctor's permission to leave, happily acknowledging his approving nod for a tricky job well done, she smiled tentatively back at Jane and Lisbon then left without fuss.

Brownloe instantly took charge, glancing briefly at his watch, saying positively, "That's great. I'm going to leave you now. A nurse will be in soon to take all this machinery away and assuming these bloods come back clear, someone will be by to take you down to get your legs sorted out before lunch."

He looked at Jane, who lay very still, with his eyes closed but displaying an altogether more relaxed posture, then turned his attention to Lisbon, whose hand was still wrapped around that of her consultant.

The doctor motioned for her to join him little further away from the bed, so she cautiously unfurled her fingers from Jane's and went to join him near the door, hoping fervently that Jane was now snoozing.

Dr. Brownloe spoke very quietly as he opened the door and ushered Lisbon out into the corridor.

"We'll keep him in overnight, but he'll be fine. He's doing well physically. It'll probably take a day or two to get over an experience like that though. Does he know what happened?"

"I don't think he does. He doesn't seem to remember much or doesn't want to talk about it," she explained. "He's been very sleepy and a bit nervy, so I thought I'd take it slowly. He seems exhausted."

"That's to be expected, it's a lot to bear in a few days." he observed, before continuing, "I was wondering, Patrick didn't seem to cope very well during my examination and I don't remember him having a phobia of needles."

"No, I don't think he has any specific phobias"

… except smiley faces, painted toenails, the bloody corpses of women and small girls… and hospitals and doctors …

The horrible cold thoughts in her mind made her shiver.

"… but he's very good at hiding stuff, particularly weaknesses."

"I see. I guess it's probably as a result of the abduction then,"

He paused, referring briefly to his notes. "Maybe he would benefit from seeing a trauma counsellor?"

Lisbon could hardly prevent a temptation to smirk at the thought, but the image of the embarrassment and shame in Jane's eyes when he'd confessed about his previous breakdown to her made her hesitate, kept her expression impassive.

"No. That's the last thing he needs … or would accept," she said with absolute conviction. " I mean … I am worried about him, but I'm absolutely sure it wouldn't do him any good."

"But still, you know where I am. And I know some very good people. Call in to my office on the first floor if you think I might be able to help or if you need to talk about anything."

Uneasy about leaving Jane alone Lisbon extended her hand to say goodbye, "Thank you. I will," she smiled pleasantly, "You've been very patient … Patrick's not an easy man to understand or deal with."

Brownloe's handshake was firm and comforting, "You're welcome," he told her ruefully, "Difficult patients are all part of the job," then with a chuckle, "At least he has spirit."

Lisbon had purposefully allowed the door to close very gently so that the latch had not engaged, fearing that Jane would wake with the sharpness of the click and be disturbed to find her gone and, as she was about to push it open again to return to his side, Dr. Brownloe suddenly put a fatherly hand on her shoulder.

The warmth and confidence of his touch evoked affectionate memories of the comfort she had drawn over the years from the presence of her old friend Minelli, a man who'd always believed in her and one of the few people whom she'd never had cause to doubt. She couldn't put her finger on the reason for the connection between these two men; there was no resemblance, just something in the way this man spoke and that lived-in look he had, something that engendered a willingness to trust.

Brownloe dipped slightly and fixed earnest grey eyes on her.

"Don't worry. He'll get through this you know," his slight smile was tight and a little weary, but encouraging all the same. "That man has character," he told her resolutely.

He placed his other hand so that he gripped both her shoulders firmly, the certainty of experience undeniable in the smile that grew warmer and stronger as he advised her.

"Now, let him rest a bit. You go down to the cafeteria; get yourself something to eat and a good strong coffee."

He let go of her slowly and carefully as if he thought she might be unsteady without his reassuring grasp and stuffed both hands in his lab coat pockets. Just as Jane was want to do.

It made her heart skip a beat.

"He'll still be there when you get back," he declared with a huge grin, "He's not going to run away."

Suddenly everything seemed a tiny bit brighter and she couldn't stifle (and didn't even try) an amused snigger at the irony of poor Jane, unable to run away even if he'd wanted to.

"No. Doctor," she chuckled. "I don't suppose he is."

… wonder if they have blueberry muffins …

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Teresa tiptoed back into his room half an hour later and deposited the white paper cafeteria takeaway bag on the table beside Jane's bed, he looked up at her with very reproachful but glazed eyes.

"Hi," he smiled a little giddily.

"Hey," she was pleased to see him relaxed. "Guess what I brought you."

She picked up the bag and dangled it in front of him.

"Uh … that's easy," he slurred a bit, " Muffin … probably blueberry."

"How'd you know?"

"I know you … you know me … you know I like blueberry muffins … I know you know I like blueberry ones … I know you want to make me happy … most of the time…"

She laughed.

"You're crazy Patrick Jane."

He grinned a crazy cock-eyed grin that sent a thrill rushing to the tips of her fingers but fled from his face almost instantly because he simply didn't have the energy to work the dozen and a half muscles necessary for the task.

She knew the numbers because some time ago he had told her to stop frowning since it was using several times as many muscles as smiling and thus she was undoubtedly using ( and wasting) more energy than he consumed wearing his cheerful face all day.

It had stopped her frowning for a bit.

Until his next catastrophic escapade.

Jane's attention drifted for a bit until he lifted his misty eyes and regarded her sadly for a moment.

"You snuck off Lisbon."

"Yeah. Sorry … had a sudden urge to get you this."

She picked up the muffin bag and dangled it tantalisingly.

… you don't need to know about the chat with your doctor…

Jane, try as he undoubtedly did, and despite the delicious aroma, couldn't focus on Lisbon's tasty gift and quickly closed his eyes.

"Won't be able to eat it yet," he moaned miserably.

"You okay?"

"Sleepy," he explained. "That nurse, you know, the one that isn't Cindy, she came and put some drugs in my drip. They're coming to take me away in a bit. To get blue legs …"

"They asked you what colour you want?"

"Yep! I told them I'd have Italian blue … colour of the sky on a sunny day … we talked about the sky … didn't we? … or a vintage Bugatti …"

"That's nice."

She returned the bag to it's place on the table.

"I'll save this for later then. This afternoon."

Jane lay with his eyes closed for a couple of minutes and Lisbon watched the occasional rapid movement beneath the delicate skin of his lids as his brain continued to alternate between fighting against sleep and processing whatever thoughts occasionally sprang to the fore.

Suddenly they flickered open and he looked at her curiously.

"Lisbon?"

"Yes."

"Do I know somebody called Suzanne? She wears a uniform."

… he's remembering … he's remembering … don't get excited … don't push …

"She was one of the EMTs who brought you in last night," she told him calmly.

"Okay."

Lisbon watched Jane's face for a bit as his dreamy expression changed from thoughtful to one of mild concern and curiosity and his uncertain gaze wandered ponderously down to the skin at the inside of his right elbow.

The bruises and red marks were still obvious but the pin pricks hardly visible now.

She thought he must have noticed them some time ago. She was a little hurt that if he had, he hadn't felt able to ask her.

Maybe it had been a mistake not to tell him what had happened. But it had been so difficult. How could there be a right time when he'd been so sleepy and unreadable.

Now she was afraid of his reaction. Would he be angry that he hadn't been told.

"They didn't do that in here, did they?" he asked.

"No. They didn't."

"I'm here because someone drugged me?"

"Yes Jane."

Her stomach somersaulted.

"I'm sorry … I guess I should've told you."

"S'alright Treeesa."

… god, what a relief …

She smiled; in spite of her sneaking suspicion that he might not be so happy when his mind was clearer and he was able to put two and two together to reach the obvious conclusion.

The conclusion that was, that his swift return to the hospital was no coincidence, since, as he'd always insisted 'there's no such thing as coincidence'.

It was becoming all too painfully apparent to her that Jane's 'accident' at the blazing mansion and his abduction from the park were connected and the very likely culprit was the man Jane had tried to convince her was responsible all along.

She wouldn't allow herself to even think the man's name. To see his awful signature in her mind's eye, to form the letters of his name into words, was more than she could bear.

Lisbon looked fondly at her dearest friend and felt very, very sick and very, very angry.

She also felt an undeniable pang of guilt that she'd allowed him to think , even for a minute, that she'd doubted him when he'd tried to explain what had happened on that fateful night less than a week ago.

Jane only yawned a drug-happy smiley yawn.

Her anger soon started to dissipate, giving way to hopeless melancholy that only the sweet innocent smile that lingered unwittingly on her drowsy consultant's lips gave her the strength to repel.

So repel it she did.

For him.

A few quick blinks and a deep breath soon cleared the gathering moisture from her eyes and settled her nerves.

She took hold of his left hand and gave his fingers a little squeeze.

He squeezed back and brushed his thumb softly over the back of her hand.

It felt completely natural, like something they had done every day of their lives.

Like it was something they could continue to do.

"You're gonna be fine,"

"Yup."

He carried on smiling.

On impulse, to fill a space in time and because the sedative was making him relaxed and receptive and a little bit loopy, Lisbon asked a question that had been bothering her.

"Jane, do you remember what happened to your shirt. It was open and all the buttons were torn off, but you haven't been touched."

His answer surprised her, although it was reassuringly 'Jane'.

"You tell me Lisssssbon. You're the detective," he murmured in a teasing, but unintentional slur. "Maybe the lovely Suzanne ripped it off to listen to my ticker … or maybe I was hot."

… burning … skin on fire … don't touch …please … don't touch …

"You don't remember."

"Nope."

He turned his head away and she felt his fingers tense under her hand.

Then with much more deliberate focus he asked. "Tell me 'bout your day instead, … sure it was much more exciting."

… or less wet … less hot … less confusing … less frightening …less creepy …

"You're very sleepy Jane," she said to his almost closed eyelids. "Why don't you just let yourself doze off," she told him gently, but she decided to carry on talking whether he was listening or not.

"It wasn't very eventful. We did actually catch the guy though; a love sick drifter who couldn't afford a ring for his girl. He didn't think the jewellery store owner would fight back. Had no idea of his own strength," she sighed. "Sad really."

Jane's eyes remained closed and when he eventually spoke his speech was languid and increasingly slurred.

"Ahhhh … love…" he muttered, almost inaudibly.

"… double-edged sword. Great when all's well … but …"

a long pause, then a little clearer,

"Be wary of the things you'd do for love Lisbon."

He fell silent then, apparently asleep and she was just plucking up the courage to reach forward and let her lips plant the sweetest feather of kisses on the back of the hand she was still holding, when he whispered again.

"…love hurts Treeeessa … hurts …"

"sshhhhhh... it's okay..."

"... hurts ..."

So ... not much progress, case wise, but I hope to have lots more plot in the next chapter. In fact ... I'm certain of it.

Thanks for reading. Oh and I didn't thank reviewers for the last chapter. So ... thank you, thank you , thank you.